This half wrought thought

My art gone like it never even began. Sorry not an artist, but liked the colors anyway. On a wall for a while. I miss the warm days rolling around. Quick up a curb and two wheels balanced across. Like nobody else. Too hard to find the similarities now. Behind a desk in a vacuum. Switched off and dormant until I'm triggered again. I can't speak what I want anymore. I can't express my expressions. Some friends made it better, always. I trust the past to know the future. Another job. Tuck in that shirt. Play nice to everyone I hate. Hate what I see coming. Love the fact that this is not permanent. Hopelessly unhip to the hip and much better now. Tape to dead wood. Dead wood to dead skin. Thwack! I loved the sound and feeling. Something I could do, a talent perhaps. Dead wood to metal to urethane to dirty concrete. Something I could do, a talent perhaps. Used to could. Dizzy and falling down sometimes. Getting thinner when I should be getting fatter. Maybe have some disease. I dunno, not crippled yet but a glance in reflective material casts back a weird visage that I do not recognize sometimes. Where'd that hair go? Why the long face? Getting old is strange. I know I can do what I did. No chances given here. Not the right look. The right voice. The right posture. The right sideways and multiple upsidedown perspective. Shadow cast on a windy street. What'd it say back to me? Maybe hid this winter somewhere in the recesses of a restless mind. Knowing it was going to be cold. Very cold.